Bird Oneshots
by HotChilliGriffin
Summary: A collection of oneshots based around my OC 'Bird'. Seeing as the show's writers created their own character named Bird, I probably won't write any more of these. Slightly Bomber/Spider in places, and character ensemble.
1. Odio de Amor

**Odio de Amor**

It was, if she thought about it honestly, a love-hate relationship, and that could only mean trouble. Bomber thought back to the conversation she'd had a few minutes ago, and her eyes misted slightly – unfortunately, not because of the onions she was chopping.

He annoyed the crap out of her. Hearing him call her name made her want to throw something, preferably at him. He spent hours chatting about nothing, and then acted so put out when she yelled at him to shut up. He was unable to sit still for more than a moment at a time, and even if his body was still, some part of him still moved, be it his foot or his tongue. If he didn't have her attention, he would do something – usually something stupid and/or irritating – to get it.

She choked slightly, as her mind swung to that other side of him. The side that could recognise her bad moods, and would actually stop the screeching for a while when she was really upset. She could hear his voice, quietly greeting her a good morning. The breakfasts they shared, and the daintiness with which he would pluck a piece of fruit from her fingers. How sometimes he would placidly sit next to her, just them.

His unwavering loyalty. The discretion he always used when it came to keeping her secrets. The square-shouldered way in which he would accept her frequent rejections of his love.

Now… now he was injured and she didn't know if he'd live or die. So frequently she had wanted to kill him, but now she couldn't stand the thought of never seeing him again.

"Hey Bomb, what's for dinner?" called a voice and, without further ado, she dissolved into tears.

* * *

Cautiously, Spider came forward, eyes wide. Something had to be seriously wrong to make Bomber cry.

"Becca?" he asked tentatively, expecting her to explode at his use of her first name. "You okay?"

She turned, and he could see the fury that she was just aching to release, and he stepped backwards slightly. But then she shook her head, and the fight seemed to drain out of her.

When it came to Bomber, his instincts were rarely on track. Any encounters with her meant hoping he didn't end up on the wrong side of her wrath, and knowing where the boundaries lay was a simple matter of experience.

He had little to no experience when it came to Bomber randomly breaking into tears, and thus threw caution to the wind and trusted his instincts for once.

When Bomber felt a pair of long arms encircle her and draw her into a tentative hug, her first instinct was to pull away and smack him upside the gob. Then her cheek touched his chest, and teaching Spider to keep his hands off her no longer seemed like such a big deal.

"What's wrong?" he asked after a while, the relief in his voice telling her he had expected to lose and appendage for the uninvited contact.

"I just got a phone call, from my flatmate. My cockatiel got out, and the neighbour's cat grabbed him. She's taking him to the vet, but he... he may not..."

"Oh Becca, I'm sorry..." he whispered, and didn't know what else to say. How could he say it would be all right? It might not be. He didn't think she wanted a comforting lie, anyway.

"What was it like? Is he like, I mean?"

Bomber sniffed, and pushed herself away, wiping away a stray tear. "He's um..." she paused, looking for the right word. Then a soft smile broke over her face. "He's a lot like you."


	2. Solo Odio

**Sólo Odio**

There was a screech, a knock, and then an excited woof. Bomber cautiously opened the front door, and her first impression was of a giant black mop leaping up at her. A second before it pushed her over, she heard Spider calling, "Doggy!" and everything settled down long enough for her to stare at him in surprise.

"My sister... went on holiday... and asked me... to mind... her dog... while we're on... shore leave," Spider gasped, heaving on the leash as the dog tried to greet Bomber. She stepped forward and let it sniff her hand, giving Spider the chance to continue. "I was walking it, and remembered you love dogs, so I thought I'd stop and say hi."

"Oh," she said in surprise, unable to think of anything better.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, Bomber fidgeting awkwardly in the doorway, the dog still leaping up and down on the spot, and Spider grinning stupidly.

"So..." he began. "Hi."

"Hi," she replied, and then the awkward silence began again. It was broken by an indignant squawk from inside.

Spider looked past her curiously. "Is that your bird? He's all right?"

Bomber stepped out of the doorway, gesturing for him to enter. "Why don't you see for yourself. Maybe he'll like you. Maybe he'll shut up."

Eager to get off the street and stop looking like an idiot, Spider accepted the invitation, walking down a short hall and into the dining room. On a coffee table to one side was a bird play area, and a very surprised cockatiel. After a minute, its shock at his entrance subsided, and it slowly lowered its feathered crest.

"Hello Birdy," Spider said nervously, remembering Bomber's horrible descriptions of it.

"Watch the dog!" she called from behind him, and he glanced down to see his dog slowly inching its nose closer to the table. He gave the leash a sharp jerk and, with a whine, the dog backed off.

"They're good," Spider predicted, offering the bird a finger to sit on. It hopped forward and bit him, hard. He jumped away, staring at it in horror.

"Would you believe I actually _missed_ it while it was at the vet's?" Bomber asked, dropping into a chair. Backing away from the coffee table, Spider fell onto the lounge.

"What's his name, anyway?" Spider asked.

Bomber stared at the bird for a moment. "Bird," she replied eventually. "It had a name when I was a kid... but he likes Bird better. And what about the mop?"

It took Spider a moment to work out she meant the dog. "Oh, his name... uh... Dog."

"Dog?" Bomber repeated incredulously.

"It's not mine!" Spider said defensively. "You don't know the name of your pet. And I don't think my sister ever told me."

Bomber rolled her eyes, and considered checking the dog's collar, but decided against it.

For a while, they sat in silence, but it wasn't so awkward this time. Dog found a bit of floor that seemed good for lying on, and fell to his belly, head resting on paws. Bird watched all this curiously, then headed for the ladder hanging from one corner of his stand. Using beak and claws, he climbed down, so he was on eye level with the canine.

"I don't think he'll attack," Spider said nervously, as the dog lifted its head and gazed at the tiny creature standing so arrogantly in front of him. A single bite and the annoying ball of feathers would be lunch.

"No," Spider warned, and the dog dropped his head back to his paws. Spider nodded. "See? They'll be right."

"I think we should separate them," Bomber said quietly.

Spider frowned, and watched as the dog continued to completely ignore the bird as it hopped closer. "Nah, Dog's pretty good. He won't bite."

"It's not the dog I'm worried about," she replied, just as Bird reached forward and grabbed a chunk of tender black nose in his beak.


	3. One Stone

**One Stone**

Morning. Sunlight. Bomber rolled over and blearily looked at her alarm clock. Only seven. Shore leave meant sleeping in. Sleeping in was fun –

_Brr, brr!_

She groaned. No, no, no... not now.

_Brr, brr!_

"Shut _up_!"

Ignoring her yell, the extremely loud sound of the telephone continued.

"Bec!" her flatmate shouted. "Now!"

"You are going to regret this," she snarled, pulling herself out of bed. "I will buy low-grade birdseed. I will clip _both _your wings. I will _pay_ for someone to surgically remove your voicebox."

As soon as she reached the bird cage and opened the door, the sound of the telephone stopped.

Turning back to her bed, she flopped down, hoping the cockatiel would be satisfied enough with freedom that he might allow her an extra hour or two of peaceful...

"Becca!" She groaned. "Bec-_ca!_"

"Shutup, shutup, shutup!"

"Starry, starry night... Staaaaaarry!"

Bomber reached for the pillow and stuck her head underneath it. "You are worse than Spider. Do you understand what an insult that is?"

"Can you make breakfast?"

"No."

"Can you make breakfast?"

"Yes."

"Can you –"

The cockatiel cut off with an indignant squawk, as a pillow landed on top of the cage.

And then, for a few minutes, there was silence. Blissful, wonderful silence. Utter silence.

Bomber lifted her head, worried. She hadn't hit him, had she? No, the pillow was just sitting on the cage... but then, where was he? He wasn't on the open door, he wasn't on the bookshelf, he wasn't...

Swallowing, she sat up. Then she groaned, and flopped back down.

He was walking across the floor. Towards her. A moment later, there was a slight tug on the top blanket as he began climbing up it onto the bed.

When she next woke, it was to the sound of soft singing. In fact, not even _singing_... more like crooning.

"Birdie?" she asked in confusion, looking up blearily. The cockatiel was sitting on the headboard, happily watching her as she slept. At the sound of his name, he stopped singing and looked at her, his crest rising and falling repeatedly. "That was nice. Keep doing it."

He stayed silent. Bomber gave a low whistle and, catching on, Bird resumed his tune.

Figuring she could grab something for breakfast while he amused himself, she slipped out of bed, and headed for the door.

An outraged screech came from behind her, and she sighed, backtracking. "I'll be back in a minute," she promised. "I'm hungry."

The bird nodded happily. Bomber took a step back to the door – another angry yell.

She looked back. "Fine, you wanna come with?"

He bobbed his head several times, and she offered him a finger. Ignoring it, he jumped onto her arm and ran up to her shoulder.

"Can you make breakfast?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"That's where I'm going now."

"Can you make breakfast?"

"I am a chef, you know."

"Can you make breakfast?"

"Whaddya want?"

"Breakfast!"

"Cracker it is."

Entering the dining room, she dropped Bird onto his play table, and moved into the kitchen. As soon as she continued on to the kitchen, there was a squawk.

"Shut it, Bird," she growled. "Or I'll take you back to your cage."

He squawked again. Opening the fridge, she bent down, out of sight. An alarmed chirp was followed by the flapping of wings, and she felt a feathery lump thud into her back.

Sighing, she stood up, and he quickly climbed onto her shoulder.

"It's not hygienic, Bird. You can't come into the kitchen."

She lifted a hand, and he pecked sharply at the offending finger.

"You have serious attachment issues, you know that?"

He nodded. "Breakfast! Breakfast! Starry starry breakfast!"

Giggling, she reasoned that so long as he didn't jump off her shoulder into her food, it'd be okay.

* * *

Bomber's flatmate came home that evening to find Bomber watching TV, the house devoid of squawking, and the cockatiel's play area empty.

Somewhat apprehensively, she asked, "Where's Chez?"

Bomber frowned. "Who?"

"Your bird."

"Oh, he's right here." And sure enough, Bird was perched happily on Bomber's shoulder, his head tucked near his feet as one of Bomber's fingers scratched the feathers on his head.

"He's... wow. Why have you got him up there?"

"Because... I'm experimenting with something... the more time I spend _with_ him, the less annoying he is."

* * *

Bomber almost bounded onto Hammersley when shore leave ended. She'd been able to sleep in whenever she wanted, so long as she was within sight of Bird and his cage was unlocked. While she was in sight, the nerve-grating screeching stopped.

"Hey Bomb!" Spider called, jumping on board behind her. "You look chirpy."

She grinned. "Really? I thought there was significantly less chirping."

"Good shore leave?" he asked, frowning in puzzlement.

"Yep."

"Okay... so, what's for breakfast?"

"Crackers," she replied, still grinning widely.

Bemused, he began to walk off, muttering to himself. Deciding it was time to test out Phase 2 of the Plan, Bomber called after him, "Hey Spide, you want to help me in the galley today?"

His eyes lit up, as brightly as if she'd just asked him if he wanted to explore Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.

"Anything you want," he agreed eagerly, then quickly headed inboard.

Nearby, Buffer – who had seen the exchange – raised an eyebrow.

"You _are_ in a good mood," he commented.

Bomber smiled innocently. "Two birds, Buff. Two very annoying, but sweet, birds..."


	4. Seven Days

**Seven Days**

**Sunday**

Coming down the stairs from the bridge, Nav watched curiously as Spider darted into the galley in front of her, obviously intent on grabbing a snack before lunch. At any moment, she expected to hear Bomber's angry shout, possibly followed by the clatter of a thrown utensil – but nothing. Frowning, she ventured down the hall and leaned on the counter to look in. Bomber was carefully slicing a tomato, seemingly unaware of the intrusion. Spider, taking his chance, opened the fridge.

"Don't even think about it," Bomber growled, still not looking up. Crestfallen, the young seaman backed out of the fridge, and looked hopefully at the growing mound of sandwiches and salads.

"What's for lunch?"

"Soon," she replied.

Nav appeared to be the only one to realise this didn't actually answer Spider's question – but it was certainly effective. He continued to wait. Though he was facing away from her, Nav could imagine the puppy-dog eyes getting a real workout. A minute passed, and she continued to watch, wondering why Bomber hadn't used the knife in her hand to forcibly remove the distraction. That's certainly what she would have done a few weeks ago... but then, a lot had changed in Bomber the last few weeks, especially when it came to Spider.

"Take this and wait in the mess," the chef suddenly said, tossing Spider a slice of cheese. He grabbed it and hightailed his way out of the galley.

"Effective," Nav commented and, for the first time, Bomber glanced around. "And no bloodshed."

"I try," Bomber murmured wryly. "And I realised something. I've been living with Spider's doppelgänger for the last six years... he's not too bad if you chuck him something shiny to distract him."

Nav raised an eyebrow, pausing the conversation as two junior sailors passed through the corridor behind her. "And who is this doppelgänger?" she asked. As far as she knew, Bomber didn't have a boyfriend – certainly not one she'd been with for six years. She would have moved house with each new posting, so it wasn't likely to be a flatmate – not to mention Nav couldn't see her willingly living with someone like Spider. Besides, she hadn't even been in the Navy that long.

Bomber spun the knife in her fingers, then rolled her eyes at Nav. "My cockatiel. Greedy, attention-seeking, loud, and altogether not that smart. And yet..."

**

* * *

Monday**

Greedy was certainly right. As Bomber offered Bird a cracker, he happily accepted the treat. She then withdrew a few more for herself, placed them on the table, and went to locate some sort of spread.

Behind her, there was the sound of flapping wings, as Bird left his designated play area in search of Bomber. Two indignant squawks later, she returned to see what was left of her crackers scattered across the floor, Bird happily munching on the crumbs.

"Just for that, I'm not feeding you today," she muttered.

"Breakfast!" Bird screeched in reply, almost as if he knew exactly what he had just been threatened with. "Breakfast! Breakfast! Breakfast! Breakfast! Breakfast! Breakfast! Breakfast!"

Groaning, Bomber pulled out the box of seed, and the squawking stopped.

**

* * *

Tuesday**

At first it was a plea for her to remain in sight. Which made sense. She went off to sea and left him so often, it was natural that he should want her in the same room when she was there. Fair enough – Bomber made note to take Bird with her wherever she went in the house.

Then he wanted to be close by. No longer was he content to sit on his perch and watch as she ate lunch or watched TV. It wasn't a hardship, though, and she was rather touched by such a show of avian affection. She allowed him to wander around the table, and run across the back of her chair.

After that, he needed to be with her. And she didn't mind, seeing as it kept him quiet. Having him on her shoulder was a painless way to –

She sighed as he ran across the front of her neck, from one shoulder to the other. He lowered his head, asking for her to scratch the itchy feathers. Ignoring him, she continued tidying up. A second later, there was a brief pain in her face, as he pecked her cheek. She had been created to serve him and groom him, and if she couldn't do other things _while_ she did that – well, she just wasn't much of a bird owner, was she?

**

* * *

Wednesday**

She refused to open her eyes. While she was still asleep, he couldn't ask her to obey his every whim.

"Becca!" Or maybe he could. "Becca! Breakfast! Breakfast! Starry, starry, _breakfast_!"

Keeping her eyes shut, she pulled the pillow around her ears. No sleeping in today, then...

**

* * *

Thursday**

Having only minutes before experienced one of Bird's beak-through-finger manoeuvres, Bomber was pleased to see him biting his perch, which would wear the beak down a little. Strips were missing all along the perch, where he had chewed away the top layer of wood. Today, however, he had chosen to nibble at one end, right where the indentation of the wood kept it stuck to the side of his cage.

There was a surprised squawk, and Bomber looked up. Bird was staring at the perch, which had slid down a centimetre. Narrowing her eyes, she realised he had nearly bitten right through the support.

"Idiot," she muttered. "That'll teach you."

Or not. A few seconds later, he returned to nibbling.

Ten minutes passed, and Bomber didn't even look up at the sound of terrified screeching, or the clatter of perch hitting floor.

**

* * *

Friday**

Yet there were times when she was able to remember why she loved him. He was currently sitting on her shoulder, head tucked down, almost purring as she scratched the rough feathers behind his ears and crest. Every so often, she would glance sideways at him, and he would lift his crest happily. Then, giving her an affectionate kiss, he would either lower his head for more petting, or lift it and sing.

His singing was one of the most relaxing, calming sounds she had ever heard. Unlike his demanding screeches, when he sang his voice was soft, gentle. He alternated between song lyrics and wordless crooning. When he began a rendition of _Starry, Starry Night _(it had always been his favourite) and managed to hit every single note, she had to admit he was probably a better singer than her.

Though that wasn't really... yeah.

**

* * *

Saturday**

On their last day of shore leave, Bomber and Nav had spent the day shopping together. Minus any and all birds, to Bomber's relief. Carting three bags in each hand, they approached her front door, Bomber shuffling to find her keys.

"My flatmate's probably at work at the moment... but if you hear something that sounds like someone being brutally murdered, don't worry. It's just the bird."

"Being murdered?" Nav asked, frowning apprehensively.

"If we're lucky." Bomber turned the key, expecting Bird to yell as soon as he heard someone coming in. There was nothing. Not common, but not unheard of, especially if he was in a "scratch me, feed me, love me" mood. Best move would be to immediately open his cage and let him onto her shoulder, but with shopping bags in both hands, she instead went straight down the hall. She and Nav dropped the bags on the floor, and Bomber made a mental note to sort through them before her flatmate got home.

"No-one getting murdered," Nav commented cheerfully, and Bomber's forehead wrinkled.

"I better go check he's still alive," she said, moving back up the hall. "This is my room," she told Nav, a little unnecessarily, as she pushed open the door. Like most sailors' rooms, it was fairly sparse, and the thing most likely to draw the eye was a large birdcage in one corner. Bright toys hung inside and around it, and a mostly-yellow parrot sat inside. When Bomber came in, he lifted his crest. She braced herself.

"Becca." If a bird could smile, he would be. She rolled her eyes, relaxing as she acknowledged he was in a really, really good mood. "Starry, starry night... paint your pallet blue and grey..." he sang, then jumped out the now-open door. Bomber offered him a hand, knowing he'd want to sit on her shoulder and chew her earrings after she had left him alone for so long.

"He has attachment issues," she explained to Nav. "If I don't pick him up straight away, he makes the most God-awful noise..."

"I can see that," said Nav, sounding distinctly amused. Bird, having noticed the hand wasn't providing head-scratches, resumed singing his favourite song. "Can hear it, too."

"You're lucky," Bomber snorted, rolling her eyes. "He's in a good mood." Turning away from the cage, she quickly glanced around the room, making sure it wasn't a complete mess on a rare day she had company. When she turned back, it was to see Nav offering a hand to the cockatiel. "I... wouldn't do that. He's vicious, and can peck bloody... hard."

Bird was sitting on Nav's finger, head tilting from side to side as he studied the new face. "Becca?" he said, crest lifting then falling in rapid succession.

"Nikki," Nav said. He blinked, not understanding, then lowered his head.

"Wow," Bomber muttered. "He reckons you're good enough to scratch him. That's a real compliment." Smiling, Nav lifted a finger from her other hand, resting it against the feathers on Bird's neck. "But uh, he usually only likes it when I do it. My flatmate has tried, he reckons she can't hit the itchy..."

This time, she didn't even bother finishing her sentence. As Nav scratched, Bird kept his head down, and was crooning softly. Bomber expected him to grow tired of the attention within a moment, and hiss his disapproval before jumping back to his cage. But he didn't. He was acting entirely unlike himself, and Bomber suddenly started to worry.

"I hope Bird didn't die while I was out and my flatmate went and bought a new tiel so that I wouldn't know..."

Casting Bomber an odd look, Nav chuckled and stopped scratching. Bird looked up, dark eyes looking between the two women. "Starry, starry Becca," he called.

"Or not," Bomber sighed.

"Don't sound so disappointed. He's a sweetie." Bomber gaped. Sweetie? Bird? _Bird_ was a sweetie? Had she heard right? "What's his name, by the way?"

Scowling, Bomber didn't protest as Bird jumped onto her arm, claws scrabbling on bare skin. "He doesn't have one."

"He has to have a name! Every pet has a name." With a friendly chirrup, Bird bobbed his head several times. "See? He agrees. Something that suits him... Sunny?"

"His name is Birdie. He likes that." Nav raised an eyebrow, smirking at her. "Hmph. His name is Sanchez. My flatmate calls him Chez."

"That doesn't sound so..."

"Well, he's not 'so'." Bomber whistled softly. It was something that would either invite him to sing or incite him to screech. For once, she was actually hoping for the latter. But, to keep with his latest method of making her look like a fool, he trilled up and down the scale.

"I must say, it is a pleasure to finally meet the... _infamous_... bird."

* * *

Alone, Bomber sat on her bed, glaring at the cage and the cockatiel resting smugly atop it. "Of all the days to be _good_," she mumbled. Most of the crew had been treated to a few of her horror tales about Bird. Now, Nav had actually met him – and had called him _sweetie_. Of course, Spider had also met him and knew better; but Nav's account of a friendly tweety-bird was far more believable than an evil parrot which abused dogs and people alike.

In fact, he had been so out of character, she had wondered briefly whether he might be sick. But he looked healthy, and was eating plenty... He'd just been so, _unbelievably_, nice...

Or not. She stood abruptly. He imitated the telephone, the sharp _brr-brr_ sound as close to laughter as he could get.

"You did it on _purpose_!" she growled, taking a step towards the cage. "You bastard!"

"He's just a bird, Bec," called her flatmate, who was down the hall watching TV.

Bomber clenched her fists. Just a bird. A parrot, who could mimic but not actually talk. A cockatiel, who was as random as any psychopath in how he acted. He couldn't scheme, or plan. He'd probably enjoy her being a laughingstock if he understood the concept, but he didn't know enough about life – her life – to actually set it up.

"Becca-aa!"

"I hate you." Groaning, she shuffled backwards and dropped onto her bed.

"Starry!"


	5. Making Friends

**Making Friends**

"You're supposed to eat it," Bomber said, slowly hooking the treat over the wire of Bird's cage. His crest shot upright and he scuttled backwards, hissing. "It's not going to hurt you! You like sunflower seeds!" The only reply was another angry huff, as Bird glared at the strange object. Bomber rolled her eyes and turned around. "You'll get used to it."

She took three steps away from the cage before an ear-splitting shriek sounded behind her. Reluctantly, she turned back. Bird's crest was wobbling up and down as he glared between the seed treat and her. Simply translated, he was asking, 'You're going to leave me here with this?' She returned to the cage, and touched the mass of sunflower seeds with one finger. Another hiss.

"I'm going out tonight," she told him, breaking off a single black seed. "You'll be all alone. You may as well entertain yourself with this." The proffered seed was knocked out of her hand, and Bird backed away from the seed bell. "Well, you're not getting away from it." Her second attempt at offering him a seed gave the same result – except this time accompanied by a flapping of wings.

He looked down at her from on top of her wardrobe. Narrowing her eyes, she chucked a seed up at him. With a terrified screech, he took off, wings beating furiously.

Several laps of the room later, he landed on his cage, looking crestfallen at the lack of a way out. She pointed at the open door, and he scuttled inside – shouting in alarm as the seed bell was reattached inside the cage.

"Becca!" Jumping off his perch, he huddled at the bottom of the cage, staring up at the treat. "Becc-aa!"

"You're not coming out until you make friends," she snickered. He gave another piercing cry, and she grit her teeth. This was not going to be fun.

Some of the crew were meeting at their usual pub for dinner and, most likely, a large amount of alcohol. Although a hangover and an unhappy cockatiel were not a great combination. Bomber grabbed her keys, and smirked as she said a goodbye to Bird. He was sitting on the top perch, thoroughly engrossed in the delicious sunflower seeds.

"I told you you'd like it," she sighed. He didn't even look up.

* * *

"No, seriously, the thing is a monster!" Spider's almost drunk voice called through the room. Bomber rolled her eyes, and lifted a hand to order another drink. She wasn't sure when the conversation had turned to her cockatiel, but it had; and everyone had something to say on the topic.

"I'd believe it," Buffer added, simultaneously nodding at Spider and taking in a mouthful of beer. "I had a friend who found one. He was trying to locate the owner, but after a week said he'd just as happily chuck it out the window if no-one claimed it."

"Isn't there some guy in the US who trained a few as attack birds?" Charge asked. "Like flying guard dogs."

Bomber winced. "They'd certainly bark louder."

"Did you buy yours from him, Bomb?" Spider asked. "Or was he the result of a nuclear experiment gone wrong? The ultimate evil..." His eyes widened dramatically. "In bird form!"

"You're all exaggerating a little bit," Nav objected. "Bird's not that bad."

"My sister nearly pulled me in half when she saw the bite mark on her dog's nose!" Spider protested. "This is a creature a hundred times larger, and Bird was still bullying him!"

"The dog is quite obviously a sook," Nav said. There was a second of confusion as four people tried to reply at once, and no-one looking at the table of sailors would have guessed they were discussing a pet cockatiel. "When I saw him, all he wanted was some attention, a scratch, and a chance to sing his favourite song."

Bomber growled to herself. "I'm telling you, he only acted like that to make me look bad."

The boys all snickered at the suggestion, while Nav clicked her tongue. "He's a bird, Bomber. Just a bird."

"Hey, you lot talking about that?" called a voice. Bomber and Nav turned around, looking at the barman in confusion. He pointed up, and their eyes widened at the sight of a yellow cockatiel sitting on the light. "Cause you know we don't allow pets in here."

The stunned silence was broken by a friendly chirp.

"Bird?" Bomber asked, mouth falling open.

"Bird!" Charge and Buffer said together, astonished.

"Bird!" Spider echoed in alarm, scrambling backwards.

"That's not Bird," Nav said, frowning. "It's not Chez, I mean."

Bomber forced her jaw back into position. "How do you know that?" she asked Nav.

"Its crest is bigger," the officer replied.

"And this one's got a thing on its leg," Spider pointed out. He was right; there was a ring of metal around the cockatiel's left leg.

Bomber looked between her companions and the bird. "It must have escaped from an aviary. Someone's probably looking high and low for him."

"Well, he can't stay here!" the barman muttered, waving an arm at the bird. It spread its wings and flapped nervously, but didn't take off.

"It may not be tame," Charge said. In reply, there was an ear-splitting screech, and everyone in the vicinity winced. People at nearby tables were looking over, pointing and laughing.

"Right," snapped the barman. "I want it out before someone starts complaining about hygiene issues."

Bomber's expression contorted into one of deep pain, before she snapped her eyes open and glared at the barman. "What do you want me to do with it?"

He threw up his hands. "Take it, find who it belongs to, chuck it outside... I don't care." And with that, he turned his back on them, and marched away.

"Excuse me?" Bomber snarled at his retreating back, but he either didn't hear or didn't want to hear. "We are loyal customers! You can't demand I get rid of your bird! I've got enough birds!"

There was the sound of scraping chairs and, with a feeling of foreboding, she looked back at her friends to see Charge standing on the table, reaching up to cup the cockatiel in two hands. It gave another loud chirp as he brought it down.

"Maybe it's hungry," Buffer said, peering through Charge's fingers.

"It will be if it's been flying around all day," Bomber agreed, refusing to meet anyone's eyes as she reached for her beer. There was silence, and she could feel their eyes on her. "So, uh, I suggest you give it something to eat."

"Maybe you should take it, Bomb," Spider said, and she fought the urge to grimace. "You're the one with seed... and a cage..."

"Oh, no. I definitely can't take him," she said firmly. "He could have all sorts of diseases, from his home or from the wild birds he's met on the way here... I can't take him anywhere near Bird. Quarantine regulations, and all that."

"You're saying you don't have a spare cage anywhere?" Nav asked, raising an eyebrow. "What do you use when you take Chez to the vet, or when you move around?"

Bomber breathed out slowly. No. She could barely deal with one cockatiel. She wasn't taking another. "My other cage is for exactly what you said. It's a transport cage." She narrowed her eyes as the other four waited expectantly. "It is way too small for a bird to live in."

"It's not for long, just until you find his owner!" Buffer pointed out, crossing his arms.

A thoughtful expression crossing her face, Nav abruptly turned away from the group and headed towards the bar.

Crossing her own arms back at him, Bomber asked, "Weren't you telling us five minutes ago about your friend, who almost killed the bird he found after a week?"

"But he wasn't used to cockatiels," he replied. "You are, you'll know what needs to be done..."

"Here," Nav said, returning with a cardboard box, a little larger than a shoebox, in her hands. Grabbing a leftover dinner knife from the table, she stabbed several air holes in the box, then held it out to Charge. "He can go in here."

Bomber watched as Charge carefully place the cockatiel in the box, closed the lid, and grinned. "Well, you seem to know what he needs... and you don't already have one to look after... and birds like you. I'm sure you can..."

Unimpressed, Nav thrust the box towards her. "Small cage is better than no cage."

Casting one final, resigned look around the group, Bomber considered ordering Spider to take it. As if hearing her thoughts, he shook his head firmly.

"C'mon, Bird," she muttered, heading towards the door. Then she stopped, and looked down at the box. "Bird2."

* * *

It was late when she arrived home, but nowhere near as late as she had planned. Her flatmate had already covered Bird's cage with his towel, which usually sent him to sleep. Plus he had probably pigged out on sunflower seeds; maybe this wouldn't be too painful. But there was no way he would remain happy and quiet once he realised there was another cockatiel in his territory.

Bomber set the box down on the table while she went to find her spare cage. To her great relief, it was clean and there was already a layer of newspaper on the floor. There were spare seed-dishes filling a box under Bird's cage, and she held her breath as she pulled two out. One was quietly filled with seed, the other she put under the bathroom coldwater tap. There was a rather disgruntled scrabbling inside the box as she prepared the cage, her thoughts on all the incredibly fun things she could be doing with her crewmates right now.

"I better get a reward for this," she muttered, opening the box and carefully extracting the new bird. He looked around warily as she placed him in the cage, then his eyes fell on the seed dish. As expected, he jumped straight to it and began to eat. "How long have you been out there?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't answer. One talking tiel was enough.

She watched as he ate, desperately chewing through the husks to get at the seed. He was mostly yellow, with almost white wings, and the two orange cheek patches. Nearly all varieties of cockatiel had these patches, though this bird's were far brighter than Chez's. On closer inspection, his eyes were also a dark ruby, rather than standard black.

Having half emptied the supply of seed, he then hopped to the water dish, dipping his beak in and tilting his head back to drink. Finally, satisfied, he looked at Bomber and gave a pleasant, but loud, chirp.

Her eyes widened. "Shh," she whispered. "Be quiet. How about you go to sleep?"

The crest lifted, as another chirp sounded. She stepped closer, knowing she had to stop him before Bird heard – and he let out an ear-piercing screech.

From her room, there was an answering screech, and then the sounds of Bird doing his best to attack the cage around him. There was another bird here, he could hear another bird, and he was mad.

In return, the newbie leapt at the wire of the cage, and shouted back. Bomber squeezed her temples with two fingers, knowing that once they were going, there wasn't a hope in hell of quietening them down.

"Bec!"

"I found him, they made me bring him home," Bomber explained to her flatmate tiredly.

"But you know what Chez is like!"

"And what do you suggest I do?"

The other woman sighed loudly, and chucked a towel at Bomber. "Cover him up, see if you can get him to shut up, I'll try to placate Chez."

* * *

A day passed. Now that he had recovered some strength, the new cockatiel wasn't at all tame. It was hard to believe, but he was even louder and more annoying than Bird. Of course, the appearance of another tiel had pushed Bird to even greater levels of aggression – and volume.

Nav and Spider, possibly feeling a little guilty over thrusting the problem into Bomber's arms, came around the following day to see how they were getting on.

"They hate each other," Bomber groaned upon opening the door. There was still a large amount of screeching and squawking on both sides, and her two crewmates hesitated before going inside.

"Could you try having them in separate rooms?" Nav asked, looking between the two cages.

Bomber shook her head. "They still yell at each other. But if they're further away, naturally they have to yell louder to be heard..."

"You better be quick with finding out who he belongs to," Spider said, covering his ears.

"You think?" she responded, tempted to place Spider between the two cages and open the doors.

Nav winced as the noise increased. "If you put up signs, someone may claim him. If they can describe him on the phone, it means they were probably his owner..."

"No need," Bomber said. "Newbie has a ring on his leg. I can find a way of tracing him through that."

"Hey, Bec!" The trio turned to see Bomber's flatmate watching them, a daypack at her feet. "Listen, call me if you get crash sailed or something, and I'll feed them, but... I'm going to stay with a friend. They're your problem."

"Right," Bomber replied flatly, and that was all the agreement the other woman needed. With a raised hand at Nav and Spider, she was gone. All that remained was the incessant screeching.

"Oi!" Nav shouted. The two birds ceased their argument to stare at her. Glancing between them, she took a step forward and moved the smaller cage so that it was right next to Bird's. "Now. Make friends."

At least twelve seconds passed in blissful quiet. The two birds cautiously climbed across perches to the sides of their cages, so that they were mere centimetres away. Bird gave a quiet hiss. The second bird raised its crest and hissed back.

And then the shouting match resumed, this time with beaks stabbing at each other through the wire.

"Make friends..." Bomber repeated to herself, her gaze drawn to the remains of the seed treat. "That is it."

She reached out, ripped open the door to Bird's cage, and grabbed the hapless cockatiel. He gave an alarmed cry, and her fingers burned with the impact of his beak. Jaw clenched, she opened the door to the spare cage and dropped him in.

Spider visibly swallowed. Hissing softly, the two birds sized each other up from opposite ends of the same perch. But neither moved closer. Neither attacked.

"And you are going to make friends," Bomber told them firmly.

"They're not going to hurt each other?" Nav asked, watched as the new bird spread his wings wide, then tapped the perch with his beak several times. Bird made a soft huffing sound, then sat up straight, glaring at the other bird through one eye.

"I don't think so." The territorial screeching had stopped. "I hope not."

Nav sat down in the closest chair, still watching the cage intently. "What are you going to call him?"

"I'm not going to call him anything," Bomber frowned. "I'm not keeping him. I'm going to find his owner, ASAP."

"Well, you have to call him something," Nav pointed out. "And unfortunately, the very generic 'Bird' is already taken."

"Bird2."

This reply didn't seem to impress either Nav or Spider. "You can't call it that," the latter objected, pulling up a chair next to Nav's. "I think they like each other."

Bomber snorted. So they weren't trying to kill one another, but she wouldn't go so far as to say they liked one another. No doubt they were both just waiting patiently until the stranger could get back to his own home. Not that she had ever, in her life, seen a cockatiel attempt 'patient'. "I'll call him Lute," she decided. At Spider's puzzled expression, she shrugged. "Look at the red eyes. He's a lutino."

Nav nodded, her eyebrows drawing together slightly. "What happened to quarantine?"

Groaning, Bomber shook her head. "He looks healthy enough. Bird will just have to deal."

* * *

So much for not liking each other. A week later, the two birds were best friends, sharing Bird's space. Together, they proved to be an even more destructive force than Bird on his own – but fortunately, their initial period of shouting hadn't made a reappearance. The newspaper at the bottom of the cage had been ripped to shreds by angry beaks, Bird's ladder had been chewed in half, and Lute appeared to be just as happy with throwing seed around the room as eating it.

But finally, after a week of printed notices, posts on .au, and a lot of Googling, Bomber had found Lute's owner. He was a cockatiel breeder who lived about half an hour's drive from the pub – which was a long, long way for a bird to fly. Over the phone, he had been able to tell her Lute's general appearance and the exact number on his leg ring. As much of a relief as it would be to be back to just one cockatiel, Bomber had the feeling she would miss seeing Bird with his friend. The feeling didn't last long.

In less than an hour, Lute's owner would come pick him up. Bomber sighed. Thanks to the damn bird – birds – her plans for the week had been thoroughly messed up. Her flatmate had returned after two days, telling Bomber brightly about the squawk-free place she had discovered. Though Bird and Lute still enjoyed the occasional screech, at least it was no longer all out war between them.

Her initial suspicion at the pub had been right; Lute was not tame. He watched warily from the other side of the cage when she reached in to change the seed dish, whereas Bird hopped down to taste the fingers and the fresh seed. Because of this, she couldn't leave the cage roof open as she usually did, due to the risk of Lute flying back into the wild where he would, most likely, starve. Bird, on the other hand, had never been one to take the closure of his door with good grace.

Until now. Intent on reminding him who his real soul mate was, Bomber opened the door and lifted him out. He studied her for a moment, gave a contented, "Becca", then jumped off her hand and hopped back into the cage. Once there, he shuffled towards Lute, who chirred softly and provided Bird with what he had never accepted from anyone but Bomber. A head scratch.

Bomber snorted as their beaks touched. "I'm all for equal marriage rights... but you two boys should cut that out. Lute's going home." As she spoke, there was the sound of the doorbell – for once, not immediately followed by Bird's own impression of it. "Right now, as it happens."

She couldn't have predicted Bird's reaction to Lute's removal.

* * *

For days, he called for his friend, only ever stopping to listen intently for an answer. Hearing the desolation in his cries, Bomber didn't have the heart to yell at him to shut up. She offered him sunflower seeds, head scratches, whistled tunes, general attention, her old Don McLean CD on repeat, and new toys.

All were ignored, and after five days her worry escalated. She was considering taking him to the vet, but wasn't hopeful of getting an appointment before going back on duty.

Then one day, the screeching stopped. Even more alarmed, Bomber found him sitting on the floor of his cage, surrounded by shredded newspaper. He ignored her presence entirely, until she tried reaching into the cage; this nearly resulted in the loss of her right index finger.

When he finally left the floor to grab some seed, her mouth fell open in astonishment.

"As males go, you're really strange," she muttered. Resting in the nest of torn newspaper and plucked feathers was a single, white egg.


End file.
